


Bounce, Baby, Bounce

by verbaeghe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), Fluff, M/M, Tampa Bay Lightning, a wee bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11113596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbaeghe/pseuds/verbaeghe
Summary: Always thank your betas, kids! (Thanks to my beta! ♥)





	Bounce, Baby, Bounce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boltschick2612](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/gifts), [deputyperrish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deputyperrish/gifts).



> Always thank your betas, kids! (Thanks to my beta! ♥)

“I’m bored,” Ceddy throws himself down on the couch in between where Jo and Yanni sit playing Mario Cart. “Let’s go out and do something.” He makes a face at the tv screen. “Enough with the video games already.”

Yanni glances down at his current state of dress - a white v-neck and boxer shorts - then frowns over at Ceddy, “I don’t feel like getting dressed up to go out.”

“You can’t spend your whole life being a lazy lump hanging around the house on Saturday nights,” Ceddy counters, looks over at Jo. “Tell him, Jo.”

“Well, maybe I could use some drinks and/or dancing,” Jo pauses their game still mid-race and Yanni feels stabbed by the bitter cold sword of betrayal.

Yes, he’s being _that_ dramatic and no, he doesn’t care one bit. These nights out are never fun for him, so. “Do I _have_ to go?”

“Yes!” Ceddy and Jo answer together. Yanni resigns himself to an evening of sitting alone in a club while his friends pick up, but that doesn’t stop him from unpausing the game without warning and laughing when Jo is pissed that his car flies off Rainbow Road while his own car crosses the finish line.

“That’s what you get,” Yanni tosses the controller down and heads to his bedroom.

//

“Why are we waiting in line for this place?” Yanni tips out to look around the queue of people in front of him, trying to gauge the distance. “It can’t be that great.”

“All the reviews say that it is,” Ceddy answers.

“What reviews?”

“Okay, word of mouth,” Ceddy isn’t making eye contact, and that only means one thing.

“Whose word of mouth?” Yanni already knows the answer, but wants to hear Ceddy say it.  

“I heard it from Jonathan,” Ceddy rushes out. Yanni groans, hears Jo echo him.

“But he’s a _traitor_!” Jo objects.

“Choosing to work somewhere else doesn't make him a traitor!” Ceddy crosses his arms, looks down at his feet. “I still really like him, so…” he trails off, looks so sad that Yanni feels the fight go out of him.

“Okay, fine. We’re sorry.” He pats Ceddy on the shoulder. “Hopefully you’ll see him in there.” He smirks. “If we ever get in.”

“We’ll get in. Look, the line is moving now,” Ceddy points, Yanni turns around to see that the line is indeed moving. They take a couple of steps and stop again.

“Well, at least it’s obviously popular,” Yanni crosses his arms. “How long have we been standing here? An hour?”

“Stop exaggerating. It’s been like fifteen minutes,” Jo replies without looking up from his phone.

“I’m not-” Yanni stops short when the crowd parts in just the right way and he gets a glimpse of the bouncer at the head of the line.

“What do you see?” Ceddy pops up at his shoulder, trying to follow his line of vision, but the people have moved again and the guy is no longer visible.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.” Even Jo is looking interested now, so Yanni resorts to his longtime aid, complaining. “Seriously, how much longer?”

Jo and Ceddy grumble at him and go back to their phones.

They arrive at the head of the line about ten minutes later. The bouncer gives them a once over, then asks for their IDs. They complain under their breath halfheartedly as they reach for their pockets and the bouncer laughs. “You three look like you have a combined age of fourteen. How could you think you wouldn't get carded?”

“No we don’t,” Jo objects, handing over his card.

“Well, true. I think he brings your average down,” The bouncer tips his head vaguely in Yanni’s direction as he accepts Jo’s ID. He looks between it and Jo a few times, then waves him on. He goes through the same thing with Ceddy, and then it’s Yanni’s turn.

“I’m older than both of them,” he says, handing his license to the guy. Yanni tries not to stare, but the guy’s big. Tall. And his shoulders are _so_ broad. His eyes are as light as his hair is dark and his smirky smile makes Yanni feel a little weak in the knees...and that little stub of an upturned nose is-

Yanni shakes his head in an attempt to clear it. This guy said he looks fourteen, so Yanni is definitely not _his_ type.

“So it says.” He holds Yanni’s ID up to a nearby light and Yanni tries not to look as annoyed as he feels, lest he get denied entry with his friends already inside. It must finally be deemed acceptable because he hands it back. “Okay, well, behave in there.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Yanni asks with a wink before remembering that he has no business flirting with the guy. He frowns at himself, hurries into the club before the guy can respond.

//

The next week finds Yanni standing in line for the same club with Jo and Ceddy, who had insisted they come again, because a group had come up to them the previous week and thanked him for whatever he’d said, because the bouncer, who’d been checking every ID to that point, didn’t even glance at the fake ID of their underage friend.

Jo and Ceddy had insisted that the bouncer liked him therefore they had to go back and so here they are.

The line does seem to be moving a little better this week, and they’re at the head of it after only a few minutes.

“Gentlemen, welcome back,” the bouncer allows Ceddy and Jo to pass. Yanni starts to follow after them, but is stopped by a hand. “I need to see your ID.”

“But...” Yanni’s objection trails off weakly, he looks at the door closing behind his friends, then pulls out his ID and hands it over.

He takes it, studies it almost as hard. He doesn’t put it up to the light this time, though he does make a little aborted movement towards it.  

“Alright, you can go in,” he says, holding it back out.

Yanni takes his ID back, slips in into his wallet before pulling the door open, feeling a little dejected. Obviously his friends were wrong. The bouncer didn’t like him. Hell, he didn’t even remember him.

//

“We have to go back again, he totally likes you, I swear,” Ceddy is trying to talk Yanni into going a third week in a row. “And stop sitting like that, it’s bad for you.”

“Nah, he doesn’t. He didn’t even recognize me,” Yanni looks forlornly at the soda can sitting on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

Jo rolls his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.”

Yanni lets his pout deepen. “I’m not going, but you guys have fun.”

Jo opens his mouth to continue arguing, but stops when Ceddy places a hand on his shoulder. “Fine, we will.”

“Okay, bye,” Yanni says blandly when they head for the front door.

//

“He asked where you were,” Jo says first thing when they get home. Yanni looks up from his game, hitting pause.

“He did not,” Yanni’s heart flutters a bit and he shoves the feeling down. He doesn’t need them making him think that guy is interested in him, he doesn’t want this developing into a full-blown crush. They’re just fucking with him, he knows they are...but Jo does look pretty smug, and he isn’t that good an actor...

“He did.” Ceddy insists. “Guess you have to go back next week.”

Yanni just waves the suggestion away, standing to clear the room so they can wind down. “I’m going to bed.”

“This isn’t the end of this!” Jo calls just before he closes his bedroom door.

“Sometimes I hate having roommates,” he mumbles to himself before face planting into his bed.

//

Jo and Ceddy push him forward so they can be there when he’s carded. They want to actually see the interaction. Whatever. He pulls out his ID and hands it over.

The guy makes no mention of him not being there the week before, which just proves Yanni’s point and he can’t wait to say so to his asshole friends. He looks up after a couple seconds. “What sort of name is Yanni?”

“It's French...I'm French.”

The bouncer hums, glances down and then back up at him. “It’s just, you don't _look_ French.”

“I don’t...I don’t...” Yanni stutters a bit before managing to ask, “What exactly does French look like?”

The bouncer looks pointedly behind him, at Ceddy and Jo.

“Okay, yes, well, I’m French too.” He plants his feet, crosses his arms, and tips his hips to what Ceddy likes to call his Angry Tilt™. “And what’s wrong with Yanni? Is your name any better? I doubt it.”

“Oh, I take it back, you are definitely French,” the bouncer holds his hands up in surrender, tips Yanni’s ID back to him. “Why don’t you head on in, then?” Yanni snatches it away, still angry. He stomps over to the door and is about to fling it open when the bouncer’s voice stops him short.

“Jake.”

Yanni looks over his shoulder at the bouncer. He’s smiling despite Yanni’s outburst. It’s beautiful, and...so much for not forming a crush on this guy. “Um, what?”

“My name is Jake. Jacob. So now you can decide if it’s better or worse.” His smile changes into this sort of crooked grin and Yanni can’t even look at him any longer. He turns and he steps through the door. He isn’t running away. He _isn’t_.

He makes his way to the nearest empty table, sagging into a chair and burying his face into his hands. Holy shit, he is such an idiot. He can’t believe he let them talk him into...he is _never_ coming here again.

“ _How_ can you think he doesn’t like you?” Yanni looks up to Ceddy and Jo sliding in across from him.

“I just yelled at him, Ceddy,” Yanni throws his head back, makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I yelled at him over something stupid just because he said that I look fourteen and he’s so stupid handsome and built and I just.” Yanni stops, shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. I’m going to get a drink.” He stands, heading for the bar before either of them can say anything else.

He climbs up onto a stool when he arrives because he doesn’t really want to go back and watch them picking up whoever they’re picking up. He orders a whiskey sour, handing over his credit card to start a tab.

“Thanks,” he offers a small smile to the bartender, who doesn’t even really acknowledge that Yanni said anything, moving on to his next customer. “Rude,” he mutters, stirring his drink with the tiny straw, spinning on his seat so he takes in the room at large.

There isn’t really much going on for him to watch. Some people are dancing, Jo among them, cozied up to some blonde-haired guy with an aquiline nose. Ceddy is still at the table. Jonathan has joined him. They’re talking, their heads close together, probably so they can hear over the ambient noise of the place. Yanni pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, chews on it a bit. He takes a draw of his drink and spins back towards the bar.

Ceddy looks happy, so does Jo. He’s glad for them, he really is, just why doesn’t he get something like that? Why are they handsome and attractive to other people while he looks forever fourteen? When is he going to lose the stupid baby fat clinging to his cheeks? Look old enough to not get carded for scratch-offs?

And when is he going to-

“Hey, is this seat taken?” Yanni jumps before looking over at Jake with wide eyes, but doesn’t say anything. “Yes? No? Maybe?”

“Yes!” Yanni blurts. “I mean no.” He huffs. “You can sit, sure.”

“Thanks,” Jake sounds amused, which that’s just what he needs, to be laughed at. He grimaces at his drink, settles his face into something that he hopes is neutral, and glances over at Jake.

“Are you on break and this is the only seat open in the place so you’re stuck by the fourteen-year old with a temper?” he snarks, and dammit, that isn’t what he wanted to say. So much for suave and uncaring. “Who somehow doesn’t seem French enough, even with this accent.” Double dammit.

“No, I actually finished my shift early,” Jake replies, like Yanni didn’t just snark at him. Yanni blinks, waits for him to say anything else, but he doesn’t. He turns and flags for the bartender. “Two of whatever he’s having. On my tab.”

“What’s that for?” Yanni asks. He almost blurts something else out but keeps his tongue.

“Hasn’t anyone ever bought you a drink before?” Jake asks with a smirk.

“No.” Yanni drains his drink, pushes the empty glass to the other edge of the bar.

“No?” Jake’s eyebrows fly up so high that Yanni thinks they’re going to soar right off for a second before they tip back down. He pushes them together in what Yanni thinks is confusion. “Why? How?”

“Like you don’t know why.” Yanni rolls his eyes.

“I...no?”

The bartender returns with their whiskey sours; he takes a long drink from the glass before setting it down a little harder than necessary. “Because I look like a kid that everyone thinks is in here on a fake ID. Or, because my friends are hot but I’m a tag-along little brother.”

“People can’t really think that.”

“Are you shitting me?” Yanni barks out a bitter laugh. “ _You_ think those things!”

“No I don’t,” Jake shakes his head, still looking confused.

“You said I drag down my friends’ age appearance, which means I look a lot younger than them.” Yanni looks to his glass, twirls it in his hands. “And you didn’t remember me even though you remembered them, so I’m not memorable, and I don’t...why am I even…” He shifts his attention back to Jake. “Thanks for the drink, but I think I’m going to head home now.”

Yanni pulls out a five, places it on the bar as a tip. He starts to get up, but Jake places a (really freaking large, holy shit) hand over his and he freezes.

“I was trying to flirt with you,” Jake says, and wait. What?

“ _That_ was really supposed to be flirting?” Yanni asks. He’s beside himself. Ceddy and Jo are going to be _so smug_.

“Yeah, I guess I’m not really that good at it.” Jake is chewing on his bottom lip now, studying their not-quite-joined hands. Yanni is marveling over their shared nervous habit of lip-chewing and almost misses what Jake says when he finally continues.

“I think you’re hot,” Jake’s cheeks turn red. “With the curls and the eyes and the cheekbones-”

“You mean the baby fat,” Yanni interrupts.

“No, I mean,” Jake’s other hand comes up. He hesitates, but then cups Yanni’s face, his thumb brushes along a cheekbone. The touch is firm, but also gentle. “I mean the cheekbones.”

Yanni inhales sharply. His eyes drop closed and he leans into the touch before he remembers himself. He breathes slowly through his nose, attempting to settle his...everything, and looks back up to Jake. “Are you sure-”

“Can I kiss you?” Jake cuts in because apparently it’s his turn to interrupt. Fair enough. Yanni opens his mouth before snapping it shut and just nodding. Jake flashes that beautiful grin when he leans in to press their lips together.    

They jump apart at the sound of Jo’s voice, “I _told_ you that he likes you!”

“Way to ruin the moment, asshole,” Yanni could kill Jo. Or maybe..he looks up at Jake, “Hey, wanna get out of here?”

“You’re our ride!” Jo objects. Yanni fishes his keys out of his pocket, tossing them to Jo. They jangle when Jo bobbles them, but he ultimately manages to close his fingers around them. Yanni offers Jo a dismissive, sarcastic smile then turns back to Jake.

“I hope you have a car.”

“Yeah,” Jake nods.

“Well, let’s go somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else.”

Jake grabs Yanni’s hand, leading him to the door and out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally writing something else for boltschick2612, but I didn't like how it was going and I was sort of lost and complained to deputyperrish (vaguely, duh) and she gave me the idea for this story and so it only exists because of her. Thank you!


End file.
